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Buttons from his suit and his shirt ping on the ground as I remove his clothing. My hands are on his pants when he pushes me down on the bed.
“Take that off,” he says heavily, pointing a finger at the scrap of lace which covers my mons.
“What?” My tone is innocent as I pop the waistband and spread my legs wide. “You mean this old thing?”
His sharp intake of breath bottoms out as I lick two fingers and slide them slowly down my chin, my neck, the valley of my breasts…
I get as far as my stomach then stop to admire Royce’s acrobatics.
Without taking his eyes from me, he kicks off his shoes and scrapes his socks half off his feet. They dangle while he hops on one leg and then the other, shucking off his trousers as he completely removes his socks.
My eyes glaze over at how his black tanks hang below his Adonis belt. The part of his body (that at some point tonight) I’m going to lick until I’ve had my fill…
I’m reminded of just how big he is when his weight dips the mattress between my legs. My focus turns from my dirty thoughts to the man before me and what he wants. What he needs.
Before he can speak, I turn my head, baring my neck.
“Sin…” he mutters thickly, “are you sure?”
Royce hasn’t wanted to mark me in his favorite place in forever, citing it was too much of a chore for me to hide his love bite.
It is, but I never minded. I just loved him all the more for thinking of me.
I meet his eyes, teasing him like he did me with the yes-we’re-having-a-honeymoon. “Well, if you don’t want to, we can just–”
In a flash his lips are on my neck, nibbling like at food. I arch beneath him, fixing the back of his head with a hand as the other twists in the sheet. Royce’s groan is hot against my skin and the suction he produces on my flesh has my eyes rolling to the whites.
It has been a long time. Too long. The simple act of him claiming me…smash-mashing into me, has my arousal seeping from the sides of my underwear in a steady stream.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he says lifting from me and sitting back on his legs. The front of his tanks, splotched with my juices, has me soaring above the atmosphere in a haze of lust.
From billionaire to Neandertal, Royce rips my wedding panties from my hips and slides the scraps from around my body, bunching the tattered lace in his hand.
I don’t moan when he sniffs them.
Nope. I let out a whine like a weak blender crushing a bag of ice–deep, primal, and way too overwhelming. Royce tosses the ruined underwear onto the floor, smiling like he was made from the deepest part of darkness.
And oh!
That lovely cock of his has crept well beyond the waistband of his tanks. I lick my lips as several beads of pre-cum slide down his exposed shaft, reminding me of condensation on a frosted glass.
Cool and wet.
With a feminine growl, I launch myself at him, using all my weight to push Royce backwards onto the bed. His surprised bark of laughter turns to a moan as I circle the thickest part of him, trying in vain to get my thumb and forefinger to meet.
These damn tanks.
They prevent me from really getting down to work. If they were the dollar store brand, I’d rip them off...
My husband, always attuned to my needs, lifts his perfect bubble ass and does the job for me. I snatch the ruined material from his hand, and lifting it to my nose, I breathe in deep.
They are as delicious as they are familiar--scent of man and the hotel soap we both use—a reminder of the night when we first met.
With a smile and the enthusiasm of a first time driver without supervision, I give him a slick lick… a little suck…
At his needy moan, I completely close my lips around his head.
“Sin… yesss. Damn that feels good.” His fingers dig into my hair, loosening the intricate design the hairdresser created. By the end of the evening, I predict it will be around my shoulders and down my back with a million and one tangles to brush out in the morning.
